


The Void

by Duskmoon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Definitely OOC, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Jack Manifold Needs A Hug, Minecraft Mechanics, No Dialogue, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Indulgent, Temporary Character Death, and I have no beta, he’s kinda badass, i guess, i just cant stay consistent, jack went to hell and i found that interesting, my adhd causes me to write in strange intervals, oh i forgot a tag, please ignore past/present tense changes, technically? he comforts himself, therefore i gave him a backstory and motivations, which results in the inconsistency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskmoon/pseuds/Duskmoon
Summary: Jack Manifold knows many things.He knows of war and loneliness, of betrayal and of fear.But most of all, he knows Death.Jack Manifold is not afraid anymore.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & Everyone
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91
Collections: Jack Manifold





	The Void

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone and welcome to: dusk writes a fic about something not that deep and makes it deep because they can!
> 
> i really like jack, i think he’s neat, so i wanted to write something about him :]] i challenged myself to write with no dialogue, so here we are!! i’m actually super proud of this!!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> cw // canon-typical violence (not too graphic but tagged just in case), repeated words/phrases (this is sort of written like poetry)

Jack Manifold knew war.

He grew up with it, was one of the founders of it. Being there from the very beginning of L’manberg ensured that. He knew of the pain and cold and harsh words that stung like icy rain, knew the grating clang of sharpening metal and the almost horrifyingly comforting noise of fresh bandages being unraveled. 

He knew the familiar sting of wounds from training, clumsily wrapped callused hands and hastily bandaged cuts and gashes. The burning, almost numb pain of fire tipped arrows, knew that pain came swift and harsh and that was how it would always be.

Jack knew, and he endured. He endured for his friends, for his country, everything that he’s fought so hard to protect since the very beginning. Jack had sworn his life to his blade, to his friends, to his land.

And then, it was over.

Almost jarring, how quickly they went from all-out war to peace and independence. He should’ve been grateful, after everything, but he found himself itching for conflict. The silence was stifling, his anxiety suffocating as he anticipated attack at any moment. Heavy bags accumulated underneath his eyes, as he threw himself into project after project to keep his mind busy.

Anything to keep himself from remembering the dark and cold and terrifying nights he spent wide awake, watching keenly for any sign of danger. Anything to keep himself from drowning in the guilt of not being able to help more.

Jack Manifold knew loneliness. 

He’d felt the pain of losing everything he loved, over and over. Knew the pain of everything he’d worked so hard to protect going up into flames in a matter of minutes.

He knew the crushing disappointment as the land he’d even claimed for himself became unimportant, just like him. Faded into the background and ignored, despite how he fought tooth and nail to defend something, anything for himself. He was tired of fighting for others who didn’t care, but since when did he have a choice?

Niki came by, on occasion, to bring him bread and sweets from her newly-established bakery. She talked with him about idle things, just small-talk, but Jack appreciated it so much.

He’s terrified more than anything.

He doesn’t want to lose any more people that matter to him. He would give up his measly chunk of land a thousand times over if he could protect this girl who still cared enough to be his friend. 

Jack doesn’t want to be betrayed by her, too.

When Tommy gets exiled, he isn’t sure how to feel. He waits a few days, reflects on himself and his current relationships with everyone. Considering his mostly neutral position with pretty much anyone he’d ever met, he decided that paying a visit to Tommy wouldn’t be so bad.

After all, Jack knew what it felt like to be all by himself. That soul-crushing, heart-wrenching feeling of being all alone with no one to back you up, despite your good intentions. Jack decided to give everyone another shot, put his trust in them all one more time.

Jack Manifold knew betrayal. 

Betrayal was watching Eret flip sides in an instant. Betrayal was the fear jolting through his spine as the walls of the Final Control Room opened and the Dream Team stepped in. Betrayal was watching Wilbur standing in the wreckage of Manberg. Betrayal was like a cold bucket of ice water being dumped over you without warning.

Betrayal was also the sound of netherrack crumbling beneath his feet. Betrayal was watching Tommy’s face get smaller and smaller as he fell farther and farther. Betrayal was the white-hot, blinding pain as his body slammed into the surface of the lava below him. 

Betrayal was waking up in his bed, shivering and sobbing, the phantom pains of being burnt alive too much to bear. Jack didn’t leave his house for days, though he did find a basket of bread on his counter with a single note containing a heart, and a signature from Niki. He cried a little more, then ate some bread. 

Jack Manifold knew fear.

He didn’t just know fear, he lived it. Fear was what kept him safe, alert, ready to strike at any time should the moment arise. Even when everything was peaceful and safe, even when the world was quiet and everyone was at peace, he felt fear.

His brain knows he’s safe, but his body doesn’t. Countless sleepless nights go by where his limbs thrum with nervous energy and twitch at any slight sound. He’s incredibly jumpy, even the sound of someone calling his name putting him on-edge near immediately. The familiar sounds of a bow being drawn or a blade being unsheathed makes him reach for a weapon that isn’t there, or duck for cover and hope he isn’t being aimed at.

He resents the pitying looks he gets from other people when his body betrays his brain and makes him flinch when approached. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t need it. Everyone had their own trauma to deal with, so why did everyone act like he couldn’t deal with his?

In reality, he knows its because they’re worried. He’s still a teen too, after all, and though not as young as their new president or resident raccoon boy, he’s still young with eye-bags to rival a 30 year old insomniac’s and knows that most of the adults worry about everyone regardless of age.

Jack knew these four things well.

But most of all, Jack Manifold knew death.

He’d faced death many, many times. The walls of the Final Control Room sliding open, only to reveal Dream and his friends behind them, armed to the teeth and bloodthirsty. The pain of a blade cleaving through his torso was never fun. With that first encounter, he’d woken up back in his bed almost immediately, the phantom pains a little uncomfortable but not unbearable.

The second time he’d felt death was while visiting Tommy in exile. He was trying to be a good friend, to empathize with him and remind him that he’s not alone, despite being so far away from New L’manberg. Tried to speak truthful and reassuring words, even offering to walk with him through the Nether while they talked so they didn’t grow bored.

That turned out to be a mistake, though. Tommy’s mischievous nature was never to be ignored, he quickly learned, as suddenly there was no ground beneath him and he was falling, falling, falling.

Jack doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how painful and slow that death felt. Unlike his first time dying, he didn’t wake up immediately. His head felt foggy and his limbs were cold, his eyelids heavy as he tried to force them open. It was dark, so dark. There was light above him, wasn’t there? He couldn’t look up to see. He let the Void consume him.

Then, he woke up. That experience forever ingrained itself into his memory.

The third, and technically final, death that he faced was expected.

Seeing Technoblade standing in the tattered remains of New L’Manberg, caused something to come over him. He looked around at his former home, the land he’d given everything for, destroyed and broken with barely anything left to even remotely classify as livable. He jumped down into the crater, stared the Blood God himself in the eyes, and challenged him to a duel.

Jack was not afraid. He was not sad. He jumped down knowing he was marching to his final death, and he was okay with that. There’s nothing scarier than a man who has nothing left to lose, after all.

He lands a few good hits, he likes to think. Though he fought dirty, he won’t forget the satisfying crack of the man’s nose as his fist connected with it. 

But, as he knew, it was a losing battle. Soon, the scarily familiar feeling of a blade through his abdomen was present, and he welcomed it. Blood dripped down his face, his torso, his hands, the sound of it slowly hitting the floor the only thing present in the radio silence in his ears. He could feel everyone staring at him, knew they thought he was foolish, knew they didn’t know this was his last life because they didn’t care about him. He was too insignificant. 

As he fell backwards, he wondered how long it would take them to realize that he wasn’t there anymore. Wouldn’t respawn back at home, nothing but a scar to show that he had even been gone in the first place. As his eyes closed, he caught Niki’s gaze, just briefly. He wondered if she would still care, too.

His body hit the floor with a thud, and then there was nothing.

Nothing..

Nothing...?

His eyes opened.

The Void was dark, darker than anything he’d ever seen. It was all consuming, almost suffocating. His limbs felt like static and he could barely keep a coherent train of thought. 

The silence gave him time to think. Reflect on everything he’d fought for, everyone he’d met, everything he’d ever done right up till now.

He thought about the original L’manberg, back before war, where he could chat and play around and be happy and never have to worry.

He thought about the first war, his first death, the difficult time he had adjusting to the constant fighting and then again when it suddenly was no longer there.

He thought about Manifold land, trying to keep and defend it as a last ditch attempt to cling onto some part of his past, and yet being ignored for his efforts. Thought about how almost everyone he cared and fought for simply cast him aside when he was no longer needed, and the bitter feelings that accompanied that.

He thought about watching L’manberg, Manberg, and New L’manberg gain three new presidents and blow up three separate times, despite any of his effort’s to stop it from being damaged any further. 

He thought about war.

He thought about loneliness.

He thought about betrayal.

He thought about fear. 

He thought about death.

And you know what?

Jack Manifold was sick of it.

He was sick of getting the short end of the stick. Sick of not mattering. Sick of being ignored. Sick of being hurt and betrayed and stabbed in the back both literally and figuratively and he was sick of not making a difference.

He opened his eyes and forced his limbs to move. They were heavy, so heavy, like lead, but he pushed himself to keep going. He kicked his legs, pulled with his arms, pushed against the weight pressing in on him from all sides and kept pushing up, and up, and up, until suddenly,

There was no more darkness.

It was quiet again, but more pleasant. He could hear the wind rustling the spruce trees around him, the gentle squeaking of nearby foxes, the occasional creak of old wood. His eyes were closed again, which confused him, because he couldn’t remember closing them. He covered his eyes when he opened them, the brightness too much for his intensely dilated pupils.

He was back at the spawn, the very place he’d stood months and months ago when he’d first joined. He sat up, pulled his knees to his chest, and took a moment to breathe.

No more thinking. He shut off his thoughts for a moment to just enjoy the peaceful noises. For once, his body didn’t feel like a wound spring. He wasn’t waiting for an attack and he wasn’t scared of anyone seeing him. He simply sat and relaxed for the first time in months. 

After he’d deemed himself ready to face the world again, he stood up and brushed off his baggy and ripped pants. He adjusted his 3D glasses, and erased any trace of emotion from his expression.

Jack Manifold knows many things.

He isn’t afraid of any of them.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! i really hope you enjoyed this sort of experimental fic! :]
> 
> i hope you all have a wonderful day/night!


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